Punishment
by BloodMoon Wicca
Summary: The cane wasn't as bad as Aunt Marge made it out to be. SMUT, LEMON, Dark Harry, slash.


He beckoned from the chair. 'Come in, Harry. I have to have a talk with you.' His back was to Harry, but his intention was clear. Harry knew why he had been summoned to this place. 'Don't be ... shy.' He said this last word with a slight lull, as if bored. Harry took a few steps into the room and stopped. The man turned the chair around, fixing Harry with an icy stare across the table. 'Come closer, Harry.' Harry took a few steps more, until he was in the centre of the room.

This man was the director of St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. The school pretended to the Muggle community to be a regular, run of the mill, detention centre. However, Lucius Malfoy intended that it be a place for criminal schoolboys from Hogwarts to go before they are released into society once more.

Harry stood still in the centre of the room. Lucius did not seem satisfied with that. 'Come... _closer_.' His voice had added venom, and a hint of something else. In the ears of the younger one, it seemed almost wanting, almost... sultry.

The grey eyes found the green eyes, and Lucius' thin lips turned into a small smirk as Harry approached the desk between them. He waited until Harry was immediately on the other side of the desk before speaking again. 'You've been a bad boy, Harry.'

Harry looked up at the now standing Lucius. He looked proud. 'Yes. Yes I have.' He seemed almost cocky. Lucius strode around the table until he was right in front of Harry, the desk beside them.

'And do you know what we _do_ to bad boys?' Harry feigned stupidity.

In truth, he did know. It had happened to him many times, each after a certain... reckless act. Screwing around in the dorms (in the fun way) with the other boys, attempting to escape the centre, actually escaping the centre and attacking innocent Muggles... Harry chuckled as he listed them off in his head.

Lucius curled a hand around the end of his cane. 'Think this is funny, do you? You could hurt someone, you could have exposed us--'

'Like you haven't exposed yourself already...' Harry was referring, of course, to Lucius' school days. Lucius had been quite the hellion, but nothing like Harry was. Harry was completely demented. Criminal, sadistic, masochistic, even.

Lucius swiftly grabbed Harry's jaw with a strong, gloved hand. 'You will learn to hold your tongue, or I will have to do it for you.' There was the sultry speech again, mingled with the threat. Harry smirked. Lucius was a cruel dictator, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed every last minute. 'Hands on the desk!' Lucius barked.

Harry put both hands, palms down, on the desk. His backside was now exposed to the cruel man in charge. Lucius curled another hand on the cane and lashed out with it. Harry's back arched as the pain of his lashing hit him. It wasn't so bad, with his shirt to absorb the shock.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, a hissing in his ear. 'Take it off.' Harry slipped his shirt over his head, displaying the toned back muscles to his dominant. Once again, he was whipped with the cane. The sting that once brought tears to his eyes now brought a smile to his lips. The cane struck him again and again, until his back stung with angry welts. Then there was a pause.

'Is that all?' Harry asked, attempting to sound bored. Lucius dropped the cane on the floor.

'Not nearly. The pants, now, if you will.' The tone was seductive once again. Harry felt no shame in dropping his trousers right then and there. He heard the distinct rustle of fabric falling to the floor, and the click of a lock. _Ah,_he thought to himself, _its extreme "punishment" today._ He smirked. Out of nowhere, his knees buckled as he was hit unexpectedly on the back of his legs. He crashed to the floor, the pain in his legs, his knees, his back, and now his head (from where it had hit the desk) bringing stars to his eyes. Still, Lucius continued to beat him. His bare ass was repeatedly struck, along with his thighs. Occasionally, Lucius would strike a downing blow to his ankles and send him crashing to the floor.

Harry enjoyed the pain. The pain brought him much wanted pleasure. With every hit, he felt his penis tighten and rise, hardening to stone. The pain was his friend, and its giver was his god.

The cane dropped to the floor once again. Bringing pain, hearing the gasps of shock, brought him pleasure. He had long since bourn his body to the room, standing naked while he whipped his captive. Now, he needed an outlet of the pent up pressure. His outlet stood in front of him.

Harry licked his lips. 'Done so soon?' Immediately, he felt the body of the older man against his back. He could feel the hardness of his captor's penis, hardness to rival his own. Lucius was attacking Harry's neck, biting and nipping, causing as much pain as he could to the boy. This was, after all, punishment. Lucius licked a finger and plunged it into Harry's opening. 'Shouldn't you be using the cane?' Harry couldn't help but tease the man.

'What a waste that would be, boy.' He withdrew the finger and, without warning, he thrusted his entire penis into the boy before him. It didn't hurt half as much as it had the first time, but the pain was still there. Lucius began to move in and out, creating friction that was painful for the boy, but pleasurable for both parties. He changed the speed, until eventually he was bucking his hips forward as hard and as fast as humanly possible. He released into the younger boy, and Harry released onto the desk. They stood panting like that for quite a while, until Lucius' cock was torn out of Harry rather more painfully than the younger boy would have expected.

Lucius strode over to his clothes and redressed, casting a spell to clean the area. Harry redressed as well. Before Harry departed, Lucius hit him once more with the cane. '_Behave._'

'Why would I do that, if this is my punishment?'

* * *

Harry went back to Privet Drive the next week. His Aunt and Uncle did not know he went to St. Brutus'. They knew it by name only.

A few weeks after, Aunt Marge came to stay. Harry spent his time thinking about school, his friends, his broomstick (both in the fun way and not) to keep his mind on the task: get the Hogsmeade form. He behaved as best he could, knowing his punishment here would not be fun.

The first night she was visiting, the conversation turned to Harry's schooling.

_'Do they use the cane at St Brutus's, boy?'_

_'Yes,' said Harry. 'All the time.'_

_'Have_you_ been beaten often?'_

_'Oh, yeah,' said Harry. _The memories came flooding back, and he tried to suppress a grin. _'Loads of times.'_


End file.
